Happy Birthday
by OokamiHybrid
Summary: Plus, it's Stiles' birthday. He can have things his way. Today.


_AN: Maram's birthday fanfic! I wrote this for her a while ago, only posting now. Uhm, first Sterek fic? Enjoy? _

Happy Birthday

Stiles is forced into semi-awakeness by lips nibbling down his neck, rough stubble leaving a burning rash in its wake. He's faintly aware of the body above his – more or less the same height, but more defined. Definitely hotter. Temperature wise. Because Stiles Stilinski is one fine piece of ass. "Derek." His growl leaves much to be desired by werewolf standards, but he's (not so) secretly proud. Less baby Simba, more angry Mufasa.

He's pretty sure it's too damn early to be awake, at any rate.

"You're twenty one." His boyfriend – Jeeze that won't ever get old, will it? – mumbles into his ear, five seconds before he sinks his teeth into it, gentle.

"I'm hungover." Stiles retorts because really? It's, and get this, he actually turns his head to look at the clock...but its eight am on a Sunday, and he's pretty sure he only went to bed five hours ago. He'll have to ask Scott. He knows for certain that it was his bestie who poured him into bed last night. This morning. Whatever. "My head hurts."

"Want me to kiss it better?" Derek's voice is gently mocking, nose bumping along Stiles' cheek.

Stiles ponders it. "...my everything hurts." He decides, eventually, settling more firmly against the mattress. He feels the silent laugh that shakes Derek, and allows himself a goofy grin in return. Making Derek laugh isn't going to get old either.

"Alright." Derek agrees, rubbing his stubble against Stiles' shoulder blades, nipping the spot between them. Stiles wonders when he lost his shirt. Or better yet – who took his shirt off? A finger slips between his ass cheeks, stroking over his hole, and he sincerely hopes that Scott did not strip him buck assed nude last night, or they're seriously going to have to review their brocode. He makes a quiet noise of protest even as his thighs spread more, and Derek pulls his hand away.

Stiles mumbles, wordless, burrowing his face into his pillow to try and fight down the headache. When he's settled, Derek begins to make good on his promise.

He starts at Stiles' head, mouth rubbing across the back of his scalp, pressing into the secret spot behind each ear that makes the younger mans cock twitch lazily. He takes care of both sides of his neck, and then his left arm – kisses peppered lightly across every freckle, every mole, down to the pad of each finger. He has to pry them away from the bedspread, lap the tension out of them, before he moves onto the right arm.

By the time his lips are stroking over the curve of Stiles' arse, the boy is trembling with need. He manages to keep mostly quiet, harsh breaths panting into the pillow. He worries the fabric between his teeth, makes it damp like the sheets under his hips. A whine, soft and high in his throat, manages to escape.

Derek makes a shushing noise, prying his arse open to kiss at his hole. He doesn't lap Stiles out like he wants to, content to kiss him until nothing hurts anymore. He does stay longer than the other parts of him, before regretfully pulling away. He drops hot, open mouthed kisses to Stiles' balls and finally, moves onto his legs.

"If you go near my feet I will kick you." Stiles deadpans, breathless. "I'm not kidding Derek." The werewolf hums at him thoughtfully, nibbling a kiss to the back of Stiles' knee, nose catching the sharp rise of arousal. Hmm, who would have thought? "Derek, come on." He sighs finally, pulling his legs further apart. "M'done." He adds.

It's not desperate, like how it usually is. Today it's languid – it's new. Stiles is always a ball of energy, gearing to go as soon as they start. Derek's proud of him for holding out for so long; taking the gentle treatment. Even now, asking for more, he's not being demanding. Still, the wolf knows that if he were to try and do Stiles' front, too – like how he wants – it would end with whining, and that's no good.

Plus, it's Stiles' birthday. He can have things his way. Today.

Derek lets himself wander back up to where he always wants to be, face buried between pale ass cheeks, tongue stroking over his second most favorite place in the world – his first is Stiles' mouth, naturally. Stiles continues to lay prone across the bed, submissive, and Derek rumbles deep in his chest, slipping two fingers in alongside his tongue. It makes Stiles cry out, his hips finally starting to rut gently down into the bed.

He lays himself between Stiles' legs, knees pushing the human's thighs even further apart. Stiles is relaxed enough, stretched out enough, that Derek slides in effortlessly, all the way to the hilt. He pauses after that, carefully lowering his weight across his mates back, mouthing at his neck. "Better?" He murmurs, nosing Stiles' chin up for better access.

"Mm. Better if you'd move."

Derek snorts, arm slipping under Stiles' hips so he can grip at his mates cock, palming the wetness there. He sets an easy pace, hardly pulling out two inches before sliding back in. Every thrust down jams him hard against Stiles' prostrate, pushes a breathy 'uhn' from his cocksucker lips. He uses his free hand to trace the boy's mouth, dipping his fingers in every now and again, murmuring contently when Stiles sucks on them obligingly.

This isn't the easy fucking they do, but a softer more...he's certain regular couples call this 'love making', and as much as he's wanted to try it slow with Stiles before, he never imagined it would be this good. It takes what feels like hours before Stiles is really gasping for it, begging him quietly to let him come, grinding into Derek's fist before pushing back onto his dick. Derek loves it.

He tightens his fist, rolling his thumb hard over the head, and Stiles comes undone. He makes a mess of them both, releasing what seems like weeks worth of come over Derek's fist, his own belly, and the already mussed up sheets. He goes limp afterwards just letting Derek go to town on him, pace no longer gentle but still achingly deep.

"Dude, come on." He groans when Derek finally comes, pulsing hot inside him. It always feels weird, for the first few seconds, until it just feels...good. He whines anyway, already imagining Derek muscling him up and towards the shower to get clean. "Really?" He asks, before being mildly surprised. The wolf settles further onto him, not rolling off and away like usual. Instead, he settles, entire body going lax over Stiles, cock still nestled deep.

"Shh." Derek soothes, rubbing mindless circles into Stiles' hips. "Go back to sleep. It's too early to be awake." He doesn't bother trying to keep the smile out of his voice, or holding his laughter back when Stiles responds.

"Asshole, you're the one that woke me up."


End file.
